


secret lover.

by Prettything_uglylie



Series: fictober 2019 [2]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, this is weird enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 01:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettything_uglylie/pseuds/Prettything_uglylie
Summary: But this is this universe, the one Isak is living in.When he opens up his locker, something comes tumbling out and Isak is tired and that is definitely why he jumps, not for any other reason.





	secret lover.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the second day and yes, it is the fourth but here we go again!

The winter cold, despite how cold it cycles through constantly in Oslo, Norway, still sends chills up Isak’s spine. He wishes he had thought to wear his other sweater, the grey one with the warm cotton lining the sleeves and body. He adores it, curses himself for not wearing what has become a security blanket to a point but it is too late, he assumes, humming along to Lie by NF.

His hands are cold and still slightly frozen, if he were to have to blame something on why he needs to put his passcode in three times - to be fair to him as well, his locker is infamously broken. 

But no one asks. 

Because no one is watching.

Why would anyone be enchanted by scrawny, slightly mean but usually quiet Isak Valtersen? He considers but a part of him still hopes. Jonas - Jonas was his best friend and his crush for many years but after forcing that behind him, Isak both craves a boyfriend and can’t imagine having one. 

He reassures himself easily. 

There is a parallel universe where everything is the same, the globe still spins on its proper axis but slightly off-kilter, but in this world, the winter is harsher but Isak does not feel the cold, no, the warmth of Jonas’s body sinks into his back and his whole body is warmed by the parts of him that Jonas touches. 

He only allows himself to think about Jonas like that in parallel universes. Because despite everything, they aren’t real. He doesn’t do well with soft love anyways, wouldn’t know how to be taken care of any better than a bulldozer in front of a decrepit building and wouldn’t know how to deal with Jonas’s graveled murmurs of “hey baby” in his ear. His only frame of reference to know what Jonas sounds like when he says that is with Eva in his arms instead. 

In this universe, he doesn’t get soft love. He gets a heart that trails after a best friend who only loves him when the leash gets taut or when the joints almost finished and everyone is clearing out, a best friend who only loves him when the party’s over. In this universe, he gets his mother throwing fits and glasses and his father’s empty presence, his shoes only sounding heavy when he leaves. In this life, Eva shoves against his chest and calls him an asshole when she finds out what he did - Isak believes her; she’s always been smart, even if Jonas didn’t always treat her like she was. In this universe, Isak gets an Instagram message from Julian Dahl that says anything between ‘you looked nice today’ and ‘i would leave heartshaped bruises on your thighs’ - in another universe, that could be enough, in another universe, Isak isn’t ashamed to admit he responds sometimes. In this universe, Isak Valtersen gets on his knees before a lord he both hopes exists and begs not to, and he begs for forgiveness. For an answer. For his love to not be a disgusting twisted thing. 

But this is this universe, the one Isak is living in. 

When he opens up his locker, something comes tumbling out and Isak is tired and that is definitely why he jumps, not for any other reason. Thoughts racing and apprehension tight in his gut, he bends down to pick it up and stands, staring down at the lined paper before he unfolds it, all ideas of actually unpacking his bag gone. 

He unfolds it with strangely careful hands - he’s always had small hands; built like a porcelain doll, his sister used to tease him, and he hates that it is another thing that will make him not a man - and anxiety clutching at his intestines before reading,

“ If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. ” 

The words feel familiar but Isak can’t place them. He can, however, place the small sketch in the lefthand corner; the curls are uncontrolled, the eyes wide and face...face pretty - it’s...it’s clearly him. 

In the right-hand corner, it says, ‘with love, your secret lover.’ 

But then - 

Then the late bell is ringing in both his and...well, his secret admirer’s ears. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please, enjoy it!


End file.
